Cut and Dried
by happycabbage75
Summary: Damon and Elena run into an enemy with a definite ax to grind.  Can they save each other before it's too late, or will the past do more than just haunt them… Post 3.2
1. Chapter 1

**Cut and Dried**

Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing.

Summary: Damon and Elena run into an enemy with a definite ax to grind. Can they save each other before it's too late, or will the past do more than just haunt them… Post 3.2

_This is the result of a major block while trying to write a _Supernatural_ story. I thought I'd try to write something different in an effort to shake an idea loose, so_…

Chapter One

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><p>"Damon, no! Stop!"<p>

The Grill was teeming with people and Elena struggled to follow in Damon's wake as he pushed his way through the crowd toward the exit.

"Damon, stop! I know you can hear me!"

Damon continued to ignore her as he dragged a twenty-something jock out by his hair. The frat boy was so drunk he seemed more confused than anything, although the closer he got to the door the more he seemed to catch on that he was in trouble. He latched onto the doorjamb as Damon pulled him through, but without even breaking his stride Damon shook him loose and kept going.

Elena followed Damon out of the restaurant and had to run to catch up when she saw Damon already a block away, dragging the jock into the closest alley.

"Damon, I swear if you lay a hand on him…"

Sure, the jock was a total jerk, but he didn't deserve to die, and Elena knew that if she didn't get there fast, that's what was going to happen. The guy had made the unfortunate mistake of taking a liking to her. She'd caught him looking at her a couple of times during the night, but hadn't thought anything of it. He'd even given her a sloppy, drunk smile or two and a nod, asking her to join him. When that didn't happen, he'd shrugged it off and gone back to his beer.

An hour later, however, Elena had been leaving the restroom, when he'd spotted her again. He'd offered to buy her a drink, and managed to stagger his way into blocking her into a corner. Taking that as his first sign of success, he'd gone for a good groping. Elena had been struggling to push him away from her when disaster had struck. The drunk moron had grabbed her crotch, Damon had realized Elena was missing, caught the guy in the act, and now…

The jock was as good as dead.

Damon was in a bad mood anyway. They hadn't heard anything about Stefan since the mess with the werewolves in the mountains, and they were out of leads. They were just sitting around, twiddling their thumbs, waiting, and Damon had a lot of qualities, but patience was not one of them. Waiting usually ended in boredom, which usually led to disaster. Which led to Damon being at the Grill, and their current predicament.

Elena ran into the alley and without even pausing grabbed Damon's arm on the downswing. For her to stop him, Damon had to have allowed it, and she took it as a good sign.

"You can't kill him, Damon."

"Actually, I'm pretty sure I can." Damon furious gaze was still on the man who was currently wheezing due to the fact that Damon's other hand was around his throat, pressing him into the brick wall of the alley.

"You shouldn't kill him, then."

A wolfish smile appeared on Damon's face. "Oh, I _really_ should."

The drunk frat boy finally seemed to realize he was in even more trouble than he'd thought and began to struggle furiously against Damon's grip, much good it did him.

"You _will not_ kill him, Damon," Elena ordered as forcefully as she could manage.

Damon finally turned to look at her, and she could see the icy fury in his eyes, no blue evident, only cool gray reminding her of storm clouds and the threat they brought. As she watched, however, the fury seemed to bleed away, and a mischievous smirk appeared. Somehow, that didn't lessen her unease.

"Fine," he said, his tone clipped. Damon turned back to the now weakly struggling frat boy and stared him straight in the eyes. The jock became very calm and still, and Elena saw his pupils dilate.

"Damon," she said in warning, but he acted like he didn't even hear her.

"You will never touch another woman as long as you live," Damon stated, almost merrily. "Is that understood?"

"I will never touch a woman," the man parroted.

"You have a sudden desire to enter the clergy. You want to dedicate yourself to helping others."

"Damon, you can't do this," Elena hissed.

"No, you're right," Damon said, cocking his head to one side as if deep in thought. "I should be more specific." He focused again on his victim. "You will never touch another woman, man, child… farm animal. Anything. You've entirely forgotten what the family jewels are even good for. Got it?"

"Family jewels… sheep…"

"Exactly." Damon smiled in wicked delight and released the jock, who immediately fell to the ground in an unconscious heap.

Damon gently tugged his arm free from where Elena forgot she'd been holding it. "You were right." He smirked. "That was much more fun than killing him. I should bring you along more often."

"I can't believe you did that."

"Why?" Damon scoffed. "The jerk deserved it."

"Because you just can't!"

Damon rolled his eyes and walked back toward the street, leaving Elena once again to hurry after him. "Relax," he said, heading for his car. "The guy's so drunk, I bet the compulsion won't even hold. He'll be back chasing sheep before you know it."

"That's not what this is about," she snapped. She was so angry she could hardly think straight, angry and tired of having to chase after him, of having to tell him things he should _know_. Of course, the problem was that he _did_ know. He just didn't care. And Elena was tired of trying to figure out how to _make_ him care. And besides that they didn't have _time_ for this. They needed to find Stefan, throw him on the wagon and tie him there permanently. She shouldn't have to waste her energy on Damon's _issues_ when they were both supposed to be focused on Stefan. "It's wrong, Damon. You can't just mess with someone's life like that!"

Abruptly, Damon stopped walking and turned around nearly causing Elena to crash into him. "What did you want me to do?" he demanded, suddenly serious. "Just ignore him? Let him stick his hand down your pants while you try and push him away? The guy had a hundred pounds on you, Elena."

"I wanted you to…" She trailed off, suddenly unsure. The truth was she had been afraid. The guy'd been a lot bigger than her, stronger. When he'd tried to feel her up, she hadn't been able to get away and she'd panicked before Damon had arrived to drag the guy off of her.

"Uh huh," Damon said knowingly. "Then don't get all high and mighty."

"You still can't just go around making every guy who looks sideways at me become a priest."

"Did I say priest?" he asked innocently. "No, I said clergy. His options are wide open."

"Damon-"

"Think of it as a warning to others." He smiled sweetly. "I am Damon Salvatore, protector of gently-raised women from uncivilized men."

"Right," she said wryly. "You're a champion of defenseless crotches everywhere."

Damon blinked, surprised at his sweet Elena saying something so crass, and then she saw the edges of his mouth twitch like he wanted badly to laugh. He couldn't, of course. Damon smirked, he mocked, he occasionally let out a derisive snicker, but he didn't laugh. It would somehow tarnish the persona he'd spent so many years perfecting.

"Yes, well," he cleared his throat. "Now that we've put a young soul on the path to redemption, I think it's time to call it a night."

Elena rolled her eyes. "Just try to get home without any other incidents, will you?"

"You know me." He widened his eyes comically. "I'm discretion personified."

"I'm not even going to comment on that."

Damon grinned, pleased as always at his own ability to rile her, and once again turned toward his car. As soon as he did, however, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Is there a reason you're touching my car?" Damon said, his tone plainly a warning.

Elena moved slightly so she could peek around him and saw that there was a woman leaning nonchalantly against the driver's side door of Damon's Camaro. She was a dark-skinned black woman with hair in long, beautiful ringlets, dressed in an elegant, form-fitting, knee-length black dress, with silver and burgundy detail work. If Elena was any judge, it cost more than all of her own wardrobe put together. She certainly didn't look like a normal Grill patron. She looked more like someone out of _Vogue_ magazine.

"Hello, Damon."

That seemed to throw him off kilter and he paused before saying, "Have we met?"

"No. But we will become acquainted, I think."

Not American, either, Elena noted, British with a pinch of something else, which meant this was getting weirder and weirder. In her experience, weird meant dangerous and she started looking for good places to hide.

"If I don't know you, then do me a favor," Damon said, his voice dripping with sugar-coated menace, "get away from my car and go away. I'm not in the mood."

"Now, now," she chided. "Is that any way to speak to a lady? I understand you were raised as a gentleman."

"I'm a great supporter of modern womanhood." Damon's smirk became more pronounced. "If you get to be such bitches, then I don't have to pretend to be nice to you. Perk of contemporary life."

"How charming," she replied, her tone implying he was anything but. She stood away from the car and took a step toward Damon. "Very well. Let us begin."

Damon moved back, and Elena knew that whatever was about to happen wasn't going to be in their favor. He pushed her behind him, but Elena peeked out just in time to see the woman raise her hand high and twist it in a gesture almost like she was screwing in a light bulb.

For a moment, Elena thought nothing had happened. Then Damon's hand that had been keeping her back fell away. He staggered to one side. Elena reached for him, but by the time she did, Damon had pitched forward and landed face first on the pavement.

Elena dropped down beside him. She set her hand on his back and leaned forward so she could see his face which was turned toward her. He appeared to be out cold.

Elena looked up to see that the woman was several feet closer than before. "What did you do to him?" she demanded.

"That is not your affair. Damon Salvatore and I have… business." She raised a mocking eyebrow. "If I were in your place, I would be more concerned about my plans for you."

Every hair on Elena's body stood on end. The woman was obviously a witch and whatever business she had with either one of them probably wasn't going to end well. "We have friends. If you think I…"

The woman raised her hand again and made the odd twisting motion. "I really don't care what you think, dear."

Immediately, Elena felt light-headed. She slumped forward, only distantly realizing her face was resting against Damon's shoulders. Just as her eyes closed, Elena saw the woman's chic high heels appear in her line of vision.

"Go to sleep, dear. We're just getting started."

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><p><em>More soon? It's my first attempt at TVD, so if it's completely off say so and we'll all move on…<em>


	2. Chapter 2

**Cut and Dried**

Summary: Damon and Elena run into an enemy with a definite ax to grind. Can they save each other before it's too late, or will the past do more than just haunt them… Post 3.2

_Allrighty… let's get these two in some trouble._

Chapter Two

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><p>"Elena?" She felt someone shake her roughly. It helped clear a bit of the haze, but she still felt like she was trying to fight her way up from the bottom of the ocean. "Elena, what happened?" This time she recognized Alaric's voice and doubled her efforts to open her eyes. She felt a sharp smack to her cheek and her eyes popped open.<p>

"Ric?"

He let out a relieved breath. "It's about time."

Elena struggled to sit up and realized she was lying on the pavement down the block from the Grill. Damon's Camaro was still parked at the curb, but there was no sign of Damon. "Where is he?" she asked, trying not to sound panicked despite the fact that was exactly what she was feeling. When people around you tended to die or disappear, you held onto the ones you had left with both hands.

"She took him," Alaric explained. "She was just closing the trunk of her car on something when I came around the corner, and it looked a lot like a body. It was Damon?"

"Yes. He…" She let Alaric help her to her feet despite the dizziness it caused. "We have to find him. She'll kill him."

"Who was she?"

"I don't know. A witch. But she definitely knew who we were." She looked up at him and frowned. "How did you find us anyway?"

"I was on my way to the Grill," he said. The words _to get hammered_ _because Jenna's dead_ were understood. "I yelled when I saw her shove someone's hand inside the trunk, then I saw you on the ground and ran. For a second I thought she was going to grab you anyway, but she got in her car and drove off."

"We have to find her. Now."

"We will," he assured her, "but first we have to get you home. We don't know what she did to you. Elena, you wouldn't wake up."

Elena shook her head angrily, grateful that the dizziness seemed to have passed. "I'm fine. Damon's the one in trouble."

Alaric ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "At least, let's get out of the street. We're sitting ducks out here." He pointed down the block toward his SUV and began to head in that direction assuming she would follow.

As soon as Elena got in the car, Alaric took off like a shot, eager to get home. "You're sure you'd never seen her before?"

"No. Damon didn't know who she was either."

"He doesn't know her and she already wants to kill him?" Alaric laughed cynically. "That's a new record even for him. It doesn't normally take long, but they at least have to meet him."

"Not helpful, Ric."

"Sorry." He tried to look contrite, but Elena could tell he was still amused at his own joke. He and Damon's relationship was definitely a love-hate sort of thing, more like hate with a side of tolerance because Damon was occasionally useful, if nothing else as a drinking buddy.

"She's powerful, whoever she is," Elena said, speaking mostly to herself. "She barely had to snap her fingers and Damon was down for the count. Me, too. No chanting or anything."

"Damon must have pissed her off somehow."

"Probably." Elena frowned in thought. "But she wanted me, too."

"What exactly did she say?"

"She said she had plans and that we were just getting started."

"A hired gun maybe?"

Elena shrugged. "Maybe. She definitely wasn't from around here."

"Wonderful," Alaric said tiredly. For the first time, Elena really looked at him. As was the usual since Jenna died, he looked exhausted, hung-over, and a bit scruffy. He was better since their trip to the mountains, but it still took time. She knew what it was like to lose people, knew more than most. Elena was down three sets of parents now. Alaric was down two women he'd loved. All the more reason to make sure Damon stayed in one piece. He was part of their screwed-up, dysfunctional extended family.

"We need Bonnie," she stated firmly. "She's the only one who can help us."

"She's still out of town," Alaric countered. "And Damon's her least favorite person at the best of times."

"That doesn't matter. We need her."

"Holy-!" Alaric abruptly slammed on the brakes, throwing Elena into the dash. She had just enough time to look up and see the witch standing as bold as day in the middle of the road. At the same moment that registered, she felt the car jolt.

After that it was a cacophonous, eardrum-shattering overload of glass breaking, metal screeching, gravel and pavement crunching and scraping. Very distantly, she thought that she really, really should have put on her seatbelt at some point. She'd been so upset, though, she just hadn't been thinking. Whatever the case, it was too late now. If she broke her neck, it would be her own fault.

It felt like forever, but finally the rolling car came to rest on its side. She could hear the engine ticking and the tinkle of glass falling and it took Elena several seconds to realize she was pressed against the steering wheel, lying across Alaric who _had _been wearing his seatbelt. He was also out cold.

Elena felt something warm slide across her face. It took almost no time at all to recognize the scent of blood since she was around it so often these days. She was also feeling light-headed for the second time that night. Every muscle and bone in her body hurt, but that was fading as was everything else.

Elena felt another jolt and guessed the car had been righted. She heard the car door open and felt hands around her ankles pulling her toward the passenger side door.

"Tut tut, Elena," the witch chided. "You didn't really think it would be that easy to get away, did you?"

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><p>Elena awoke to one of the most soothing feelings she knew. Gentle fingers were gliding over her head, smoothing back her hair in a slow, repetitive motion. Over and over, the fingers swept across her hair, easing her from sleep.<p>

As a little girl, she remembered falling asleep on the sofa with her head in her mother's lap as she stroked her hair. She remembered resting her head against her father chest, listening to the deep rumble of his voice as it echoed through him, as all the while he ran his hand over her hair. They'd loved her, and they'd never been afraid to show it, instinctively soothing a child without giving it a second thought. It had been as natural as breathing to them.

They were gone now, though. Jenna was gone. Stefan was gone.

"Don't move, Elena."

In direct opposition to the order, Elena immediately tried to sit up. That decision failed miserably when every single part of her body seemed to seize up and she fell right back where she was.

"Shh. It's all right. Just lie still." The calming phrases repeated over and over. "Shh. Don't move."

"Damon?" She hated how weak she sounded, but decided to be proud that she could talk at all.

"Don't talk and don't move," he said gruffly. "You're a mess."

Elena had to agree with that statement. A quick internal check told her that she'd managed to batter and bruise every bit of her, and rattle her brain in the bargain. Even now, she could feel dried blood on her face and in her hair and wondered how long she'd been unconscious.

"I don't think anything's broken, but I'm not sure." Damon resumed the repetitive motion of running his fingers over her hair.

Elena very, very slowly opened her eyes. She was in a small room, maybe six by six. There was no furniture and the walls were bare. The floor was hard, like cement, covered in old stained linoleum and the walls were a dingy white. Damon was apparently sitting with his back against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle. Elena was lying on her side, with her head in his lap, giving her a good view of his boots, which looked like they were going to need a definite shine when they got out of this.

Elena shifted experimentally and immediately regretted it when every nerve ending in her body protested. Once the pain ebbed, she realized that not only was Damon's hand in her hair, the other hand was lightly resting on her side.

"By the way, you're banned from riding in cars," he said dryly. "You keep flipping them like this, you're gonna eventually get killed whether you like it or not."

"Tell your friends to stop standing in the road then."

"My friends would never be so rude," he shot back, "and I can't seem to convince psychotic killers to stay away from us."

Elena huffed out the barest laugh. "Still your fault. Birds of a feather."

Damon grunted his disapproval. "I may be a killer, but I'm not psychotic. They can go flock somewhere else."

The hip Elena was resting on was beginning to hurt unmercifully. Knowing if she waited to think about it, she wouldn't do it, Elena abruptly turned so that she was lying on her back. At least she thought she did. Her vision had blacked out and her ears were ringing.

When her vision started to clear, she focused her eyes to see Damon's worried face hovering over hers. He had pulled her closer so that she was half in his lap now, one arm supporting her back while her head rested against his chest, the other arm wrapped around her, holding her gently, but securely to him.

Damon frowned. "Are you genuinely stupid or were you having a blond moment? I said _don't _move."

"Stupid," she managed to wheeze.

"Well, now that we're agreed, don't do it again," he ordered.

"Right."

They both fell silent for several minutes while Elena tried to pull herself back together. The longer it went on, however, the more she realized just how close she was to Damon, how securely he was holding her. She knew it should be awkward, but at some point, having Damon close to her had changed. He still loved to surprise her and scare her and invade her personal space, but that was when she was well. When things were bad, it was always like this. Comfortable, soothing, safe.

"Is Ric ok?" she asked.

"Alaric was with you?"

"He was driving. Do… do you think she killed him?"

"Don't know," he said quietly, and she could hear a tiny hint of worry in his tone. "Mary Poppins just threw you in here and gloated that you'd wrecked your car and nearly killed yourself ahead of schedule."

"Mary Poppins?"

"British? Witch? Likes toying with children?"

"Not a child," she said, although she sounded petulant even to her own ears.

"Sure." She didn't even have to see his face to know he was smirking. "What's the name of the bear on your bed again?"

"Jerk."

"Mm hmm," was his only reply.

"We need to get out of here," she stated the obvious.

"Well, I was working on that until someone chucked a half-dead brunette at me. I've been told I'm easily distracted."

Elena involuntarily laughed at the thought of calling a man easily distracted when he'd spent 150 years relentlessly chasing Katherine. The movement was jarring and she gasped, but that hurt, too. Her ribs were on fire and she wanted to weep from the pain.

"Breathe, Elena." Damon's voice was low and steady, but very firm. "In and out. Nice and slow."

"Can't," she whispered. "Hurts."

"Do it anyway. Blue is _not_ your color," he drawled, but she could hear the panic sneaking into his voice. "Now breathe. Nice and shallow, just like Caroline."

"Damon," she said through gritted teeth.

"What?" he asked innocently. "I could have said _easy_ and shallow. I was taking the high road."

She knew he was trying to distract her, and to be honest she was too grateful for it to yell at him for being a jerk about Caroline. In any case, she quit listening to exactly what he was saying, and simply focused on the even, soothing tone. It helped her calm down and steady her breathing. It still hurt so badly she could hardly function, but for now all she had to do was get air in and out of her lungs.

"Elena?" She felt him brush a hand gently over her hair again before returning it to her side where he'd been holding her. "I need you to listen very carefully."

She nodded and made a concerted effort to focus her jumbled thoughts. "'Kay."

"I can heal you."

_Yes, please, it hurts_, was her first thought, but she knew there had to be more to it. Damon sounded very serious and it was a rare enough occurrence that when it happened she knew to pay attention.

"I can do it, but if she kills you before we can get out of here, it's game over for you and your pesky humanity. If that happens, and you wake up a vampire, she'll have the chance to kill you again. I won't make the choice for you. That got me in real trouble last time. Especially when this time has the potential to get you murdered twice in one day."

Damon shifted his hand so that it rested over her abdomen and a fresh pain exploded in her body that was beyond agonizing. She cried out and grabbed on to anything she could, only belatedly realizing she was gripping Damon's shirt, clinging to him for dear life.

"Well, I guess that answers that question."

"What?" she bit out.

"You're bleeding internally, Elena. Who knows what else is wrong."

"Can't you… get us… out of here?"

"Not without another witch or a wrecking ball to knock the whole building down. She's got us sealed in tight."

Elena turned her face toward his shoulder, wishing there was some way to get closer, some way that he could magically fix all of this. She knew she was crying and bleeding and ruining his, no doubt, unconscionably expensive shirt, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

"Have to do it," she said tightly. "M'not gonna make it."

He tilted her back and the coppery tang of blood in the air struck her nostrils. Barely a second later, she felt his wrist pressed to her lips and the warm slide of blood in her mouth. Her first reaction was always to retch, but this time at least she fought it. She was dying and she knew it. It was getting harder and harder to breathe and she could feel the pressure growing in her belly as it became more and more distended. Even now, she could feel herself fading.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," Damon's voice was harsh, "you have to _drink_ it for it to do any good. You've got the wrong Salvatore to play Prince Charming. I don't keep dwarfs on standby and kissing girls in comas is just creepy, so _drink_, woman."

With a supreme effort, Elena managed to swallow a mouthful of blood. Almost instantly, she could feel a different type of warmth begin to spread through her body, easing the pain away. She swallowed again, easier this time.

Suddenly, the door flew open and banged against the wall. Like a giant hand wrapping around her, Elena was ripped out of Damon's arms and slammed into the opposite wall. The tap of the witch's heels echoed as she entered the room, but the last thing Elena heard as her vision went black was Damon's scream.

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><p><em>More soon…<em>


	3. Chapter 3

**Cut and Dried**

Summary: Damon and Elena run into an enemy with a definite ax to grind. Can they save each other before it's too late, or will the past do more than just haunt them… Post 3.2

_More trouble for our heroes today…_

Chapter Three

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><p>Elena woke to the sound of someone groaning, and even with her brain still lost in a fog of sleep, she knew who it was. Damon, in pain.<p>

Elena slowly opened her eyes. She seemed to be in the same room she'd been in before. She was lying on the floor on her back, her head tilted toward the wall. Elena heard a harsh intake of breath from Damon, followed by a noise that was so sickening she involuntarily closed her eyes again. It was a slippery, liquid, squelching noise, and Damon let out an agonized shout that was quickly cut off and she could imagine him gritting his teeth in an attempt to control the pain.

"Quiet," a woman snapped, and Elena recognized the witch's voice. It definitely confirmed that she shouldn't let on that she was awake.

Elena heard the sharp slap of flesh on flesh. "What did I say about fighting me, Damon?" she said in a singsong. She followed that up with slow chanting in whatever language was necessary for what she was doing. Damon let out a wet, choking cough and then moaned, before abruptly falling silent. The witch continued chanting for another minute and then she too fell silent.

Elena felt a desperate need to move, but fought it. Intellectually, she knew it was the only thing keeping her safe, or at least from drawing the woman's attention. Nevertheless, everything she had was telling her to get off the floor and check on Damon. He was one of the strongest people she knew and his silence was terrifying.

Elena had a sudden desperate wish that Stefan was there. She loved him and missed him, but it was more than that, especially at times like this. When Stefan was in trouble she went to Damon, and when Damon was in trouble she went to Stefan. With him gone, it was as if their world just didn't quite work right.

A phone rang and involuntarily, Elena jumped. She could only pray the witch hadn't noticed. When nothing happened, Elena remained very still and listened. She had to be ready for her chance. She seriously doubted she would get more than one.

"Speak."

Elena wished she could roll her eyes. Could the woman get a little more pretentious?

"Good. Bring them. I will need them for the spell." Whatever the person on the other end said, the witch didn't like it. "We had a deal," she snarled, although it was a very elegant, hoity-toity sort of snarl. After another moment she snapped, "We shall see about that."

Elena held very still as she heard the witch daintily stomping toward the door, and Elena prayed she would just leave. She stopped, however, right beside Elena, so close that she felt the air move against her cheek. Elena forced herself to remain completely limp, as if unconscious. The woman used her elegantly shod foot and nudged Elena's cheek. She allowed her head to move freely, all the while concentrating on remaining relaxed. One flinch and she would be done for.

"The stupid girl is going to die before I can get the spell ready," she muttered under her breath.

Finally, when the woman seemed satisfied, she stepped away and moved toward the door. Elena heard it open and close again, then patiently counted to thirty in her head.

"Damon?" she whispered, her voice frighteningly loud in the small room.

Elena pushed herself to her knees and had to close her eyes again as she fought back a bout of vertigo. The pain wasn't as bad as it had been before, but she was still in rough shape. Her ribcage was too tight and she still felt bruised and battered. Damon simply hadn't had enough time to give her the blood necessary to heal her completely.

Once the dizziness had passed, she opened her eyes and focused on the rest of the small room and Damon who was flat on his back several feet away.

Elena gasped and rushed toward him ignoring the pain it caused. "Damon!"

He didn't so much as bat an eye. Elena held out her hands, but she had no idea where to touch him that wouldn't hurt him. There was blood everywhere. All she could think about were the awful squelching, slippery noises she'd heard and she suddenly had no doubt that it was Damon's insides that had been making those sounds.

"Damon," she said again, louder this time. "Damon, can you hear me?"

"Elena?" he said, his voice slurred.

She ordered herself to stop being so squeamish and pushed his bloodied shirt out of the way. Even now she could see the wide incision the witch had made beginning to close, but it seemed to be taking longer than other injuries she'd seen him heal.

"Come on," she ordered. "We have to get out of here before she comes back."

Damon's eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused. "Can't," he mumbled. "You have to go," he added breathlessly.

"We _both_ have to go," she countered.

He shook his head. "Not strong enough. She put… Just go. Get," he paused trying to think of someone, his natural first choice gone now that Stefan was off the wagon, "get Ric."

"Damon, I don't know if Ric is even alive." It hurt her to say it, but wishful thinking wasn't going to get them out of this. "We don't have to get far. Just far enough away that we can call someone to come get us. Jeremy, or Caroline."

"Go," he said quietly, and she could tell he was fading again. "Call… Barbie to the rescue."

Elena smacked him, hard. "Stay awake!" she ordered, then quickly decided to change tack. "Damon, I can't get out of here without your help." It was fighting dirty, but if it would get him moving, then so be it.

He just looked at her for several seconds, then he must have come to some sort of decision because he struggled to move, finally rolling to his side, groaning and wrapping one of his arms around his abdomen. He drew in a deep breath, held it, and in one awkward movement, pushed himself to his feet. He immediately stumbled sideways until he hit the wall and used it to keep himself upright.

Elena got to her feet as well and hurried toward him. "What did she do? Is this vervain?"

"No," he said tightly. "It's… It doesn't matter." He gritted his teeth, visibly fighting back the pain. "Let's get out of here." He paused for a moment. "_Please_, tell me you tried the door before you made me get off the ground."

"No, I-"

Damon didn't say anything else. He used his free hand to shoo her toward the door. Elena walked to it, and as quietly as possible tried the knob. When it refused to turn, she wanted to sob in despair. Almost immediately, she was nudged to one side. Damon put his hand on the door knob and twisted hard enough for the entire thing to come off. "At least the spell's gone," he observed.

Damon quietly pushed the door open and peeked out. Leaning heavily against the jamb, he waited and Elena got the impression he was listening.

"I think… she's gone." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he started to slump forward, and Elena jumped to get in front of him to keep him from falling.

"No, Damon. You have to stay awake." She put her hands on his chest and finally had to lean into him to keep him upright. Immediately, Damon let out a stifled cry and shoved her away. The reaction was so violent, that Elena stumbled back and fell, landing hard on the floor. "What was that?" she demanded angrily. Her body had been through more than enough for one night and was screaming at her again at the rough treatment.

Elena looked up to see Damon leaning against the door jamb with both arms wrapped around his torso, his face screwed up in agony. "Don't…" he wheezed, "don't… do that… again."

"Don't what?" Elena struggled to her feet and approached him cautiously. She took a quick glance around and saw that they appeared to be in the kitchen of a vacant house. It wasn't anything fancy, just one of those everyday houses built a few decades ago that she passed everyday and paid no attention to.

Damon very gently placed a hand over the middle of his chest just below his ribcage. "This is probably the only time in my life I'll ever say this to a good-looking woman, but _don't touch me_."

"Why?"

Damon straightened slightly, wincing the whole while. "Two guesses. Either you're so beautiful I can't control myself around you, _or_," he drew the word out, "it _hurts_, Elena."

"Ok." Elena very carefully approached him, with her hands out in front of her. "We don't have time for this. I'm…" She studied him and realized he was looking worse by the second. Whatever the witch had done to him was making it harder and harder for him to function. "Put your arm around me."

Damon smirked, but it was a pale imitation of what she knew he was capable of. "Why, Elena. I thought you'd never ask."

"Shut up, Damon." She sidled closer and very carefully helped him raise his arm and set it across her shoulders. Tentatively, they stepped together toward the door. As soon as they moved, however, Damon's grip on her shoulder became bruising and he put more weight on her than she expected.

"Damon, stay with me. I can't carry you."

"Sorry," he grunted. "You're hurt… anyway. Shouldn't be… carrying me… around."

"Stop… talking," she panted. "Start… moving." In all honesty, if he didn't move pretty soon, they were both going to be on the floor again. Damon wasn't a big guy. For being born in the mid 1800s, he was fine, maybe even a bit tall, but for modern America, he wasn't exactly huge. What he was, was muscle, and muscle wasn't light.

Step by painful step, they made their way out of the house, Damon getting heavier and heavier every second. He stumbled down the back stairs, and it took every ounce of determination she had left to keep them both upright.

The sun was coming up and Elena quickly made a command decision. Once they were outside, she pointed them in the direction of the nearest house, all the while fearfully watching for any sign of the witch's return.

The closest house was another 70s ranch style home. It couldn't have been more than twenty yards away, but by the time they reached it, she and Damon were both at the end of their collective rope. They were both gasping, dragging their feet, each holding the other up as best they could.

When they reached the back door, she leaned Damon against the house and banged on the door with what little strength she had left. Just when she was about to give up, an elderly woman appeared, wiping sleep from her eyes and buttoning her housedress.

"Oh my goodness," she exclaimed. "Are you all right, honey?" Her first instinct to help, however, quickly turned to wariness. "What happened to you?"

"Please, ma'am. Can we use your phone?"

"We?"

Elena looked to her left where Damon was propped against the brick and the old woman's gaze followed. She gasped at the horror-movie state of him and began to close the door. Damon immediately stepped into action. He leaned in and made eye contact.

"You're going to invite us in, Grandma. We promise we're not the big bad wolf."

"Of course," the woman said sounding slightly dazed. She opened the screen door for them. "Please, come in."

Once again, Elena pulled Damon's arm across her shoulders and they struggled into the house awkwardly. She headed for the closest thing which was the kitchen table and chairs, but Damon balked.

"Flat. Need to lie flat."

Elena didn't even have the energy to question it. She simply changed direction toward the sofa she could see in the room beyond. When Damon bent to lie down, he let out a pain-filled noise halfway between a sob and a whimper, and she doubted she would ever forget the sound of it.

"Call," he gasped out. "Call… Liz, call Jeremy, Caroline. Don't care who."

Elena nodded and sank wearily to the floor next to him. She didn't think she would ever get up again. Elena looked up at the homeowner who was standing in the kitchen wringing her hands and watching them nervously. "Ma'am? I need to use your phone."

* * *

><p><em>Poor Damon… We'll find out what the witch did to him next chapter. Tomorrow if I can manage it since this was sort of a get us from A to B chapter.<em>


	4. Chapter 4

**Cut and Dried**

Summary: Damon and Elena run into an enemy with a definite ax to grind. Can they save each other before it's too late, or will the past do more than just haunt them… Post 3.2

_Here we go. New chapter today as promised._

Chapter Four

* * *

><p>Elena awoke to the odd sensation of something wet brushing over her face. Her eyes snapped open and she was looking up into Caroline's worried expression. She was holding a washcloth which was tinted pink and Elena realized she'd been trying to clean her up.<p>

"I gave you some of my blood," Caroline said with a brave smile. "You should be feeling better soon."

Elena took a moment to check and quickly came to the conclusion that she was just fine. That only left…

"Damon!" She sat up abruptly, startling Caroline, and saw she was back at the boarding house on one of the sofas in the great room. "Where is he? Is he ok?"

Caroline looked to one side uncertainly, and Elena followed her line of vision to see Tyler sitting on the opposite sofa. He, too, looked uncomfortable and wouldn't meet her gaze.

"What?" she said impatiently.

"He's in his room," Caroline finally said. "Alaric's with him."

"Alaric… he's here?"

"He's a bit bruised up and as confused as the rest of us, but yeah. He called me after the wreck. We've been looking for you since last night." She once again glanced at Tyler as if for support. "So… you wanna tell us what's going on?"

"I will… but first…" Elena was already on her feet heading for Damon's room. She heard Caroline and Tyler following, but didn't slow down.

"Elena, maybe you ought to get cleaned up first!" Caroline called after her.

"I'm fine." She'd worry about her ruined clothes and the blood she could still feel caked in her hair later.

Without waiting, she barreled up the stairs and down the corridor to Damon's room. She threw open the door and hurried inside past Alaric, stopping only once she was at Damon's side where he lay motionless on the bed.

Almost immediately, the similarities to where they had been only weeks before struck her. Damon was on the bed, clearly incapacitated. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his brow, and his normally pale skin was nearly gray. On a certain level, she knew this couldn't be as grave as the werewolf bite had been, but that didn't stop her from grasping Damon's hand and bending over him, hoping for some sort of response.

"Damon? Can you hear me?"

He swallowed heavily and his eyes opened just far enough for her to get a glimpse of his ice blue irises. "I'm _hurt_, not _deaf_."

Elena couldn't help smiling. Surely it couldn't be too bad if he was still making smart remarks. "Are you going to tell me what happened now?"

His eyes opened just a little wider and focused on her. "You ok?" He started to sit up a little and immediately grimaced. He fell back, clamping his mouth shut and if she had to guess he was fighting not to cry out. He looked like it hurt that much.

"Caroline fixed me up. Now tell me what the witch did to you."

Damon let out an angry, pained laugh. "Let's just say she's dedicated to yard work."

Alaric stepped closer. "Stop screwing around, Damon. My car's in the shop and I feel like I was literally thrown under a bus, so just tell us."

"Patience, Ricky." Damon sighed, although Elena could still hear the underlying anger and frustration. "You never have had a sense of the dramatic."

"Did you just call me _Ricky_?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Would you prefer Larry?"

"I'd _prefer_ you stop stalling and tell us why you're laid up."

Damon shifted slightly. His hand tightened so hard around Elena's that she could feel her bones grinding together. "Mulch," he finally said through clenched teeth.

Elena gasped. "Tell me she didn't."

"Oh, she did," Damon replied, deadpan.

"What?" Alaric demanded impatiently. "What did she do?"

Damon set his free hand very, very gingerly on his abdomen. "She paralyzed me," he bit out. "She cut me open, threw in a few handfuls of mulch, stirred it around and then did a handy spell to close the wound up."

"Mulch?" Caroline asked, looking like she wanted to be sick. "As in wood chips?"

"Pretty sure the owners of that house were going for curb appeal, but the witch was definitely thinking _outside_ the box." He coughed dryly and let out an involuntary groan as it jarred his body.

"Why would she do that?" Elena whispered, freshly horrified that she'd forced him to move the way she had. She'd been getting them both to safety, but she'd also been stabbing him with every single movement.

"If I had to guess," Damon said tightly, "I'd say she doesn't _like_ me very much."

"Why wouldn't she just kill you?" Alaric asked.

Damon's eyes moved to Alaric while the rest of him remained perfectly still. "Have I told what a comfort you are to me?"

"Cut the crap, Damon. This witch obviously has a serious bone to pick with you." He sounded like that wasn't surprising in the least. "This is personal, so who is she?"

Damon closed his eyes, suddenly looking more exhausted than anything else. "I wish I knew."

"Did…" Elena had to clear her throat. "Did she say anything else about me while I was out?"

"Other than her plans for your imminent demise?" He raised his eyebrows. "No, that was it."

"Ok, this isn't getting us anywhere." Alaric ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "We know she's a witch, we know she's out to get you two, and that's it. The question is how are we supposed to find out anything else about her?"

"More importantly," Damon countered, "who gets the _lovely_ job of de-mulching me?"

Elena felt the blood drain from her face and the silence in the room was deafening. Caroline actually took a step back toward the door. She turned toward Tyler who held up his hands in surrender. "Don't look at me. He said if I ever touched him again, he'd rip my teeth out and shove them-"

"Right, we got it," Ric quickly cut him off.

Elena took a deep steadying breath while silently cursing herself for what she was about to say. "I'll do it."

"No, I will," Alaric immediately contradicted her. "There's no need for you to…"

Elena turned on him angrily. While he might be the only adult authority figure she had left in her life, he wasn't the boss. "If you're about to suggest I don't need to see anything like that, you can stop right there. I'm pretty sure I've seen enough-"

"Exactly," he shot back. "You've seen enough. I can do it."

"Look," Damon snapped angrily, "you two can fight later about who wants to get their hands on me more. Just someone _please_ get this stuff out of me before I go insane!"

Elena looked at him worriedly, and for once she decided he wasn't kidding. He was nearly wild-eyed and she was afraid that if they didn't do something soon, he was going to cut _himself_ open and start working.

"I'll do it," Alaric said with firm finality. When he saw the look on her face, however, he relented. "I may need help, Elena, so…"

"Is there anything you want me to do?" Caroline asked, although she looked like she wanted to be a million miles away from what was going on.

"You heard him, Barbie," Damon ground out. "They've got this handled. Get out and take Typhoid Tyler with you."

"Damon," Elena chastised.

"Do _not_ tell me to be Mr. Congeniality when I've got enough toothpicks in me to be an hors d'oeuvres tray," Damon shot back.

Alaric sighed and stepped up to the bed beside Elena. "Calm down. Just give us a minute to gather up some supplies." He pointed a finger at Damon. "But you so owe me for this. You can't give me any crap for at least… a week."

Damon widened his eyes in mock-horror. "A whole week? Just for cutting me open and scooping wood chips out of my guts? This isn't a charity."

Alaric met Elena's gaze. "I'm gonna go find what we'll need. You… see if you can shut him up."

Alaric left the room and Elena saw that Caroline and Tyler were already gone. That left just her and Damon, and the sudden silence was oppressive. Damon was lying rigidly still on the bed, but his eyes were glued to her, watching her every move as she walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed up. She gently edged closer, mindful not to jostle him. Finally, she sat down cross-legged, facing the headboard. She took his hand and pulled it close, wrapping her own hands around it.

"How're you doing?" she asked quietly.

"Better than last time we were here," he answered at the same volume, his ghostly eyes still locked on her face.

"Why didn't you tell me how bad it was?"

"I did. I told you to leave me there," he said, finally looking away and closing his eyes. It felt like a reprieve to Elena. When Damon was watching her, it always seemed like he could see far more than she wanted him to know. Ever since he'd been sick and she'd kissed him, things had been different between them. Yes, she was still desperate to find Stefan, she _loved_ Stefan, but he was gone and Damon wasn't. Damon was always there, protecting her, helping her, in his own semi-reliable, jackass sort of way. She would deny it until she was blue, but she was always afraid that it was there on her face somehow for Damon to see.

"You _should_ have left me there," he added. "The witch could have come back."

"You'd probably be dead now if I had," she chided. "Now who's the one with suicidal tendencies?"

He turned back to her and his face was suddenly deadly serious. "There's a difference between being suicidal, and having my priorities straight." His eyes bore into hers. "I have my priorities straight."

_You are my priority_. Elena could practically hear the words hanging in the air, even though he hadn't said them. He'd wanted her out of harm's way and if that meant leaving him behind then so be it.

"Well, guess what?" she replied evenly. "I have my priorities straight, too. We were _both_ getting out of there."

Damon smiled weakly. "This new take-charge Elena is starting to worry me."

"Why?"

"Because if you get any pushier, I'm afraid you'll stop shaving your legs and then burn your bra on the front lawn. Although now that I think of it," he gave her a lascivious grin, "I could probably get used to the second part."

Elena blushed and had a sudden desire to cross her arms over her chest, but refrained. Damon might be nearly incapacitated, yet he never passed up an opportunity to make her uncomfortable.

"Ok," Alaric said loudly as he walked back into the room. He was carrying a knife, a small plastic trash can, several bags of blood, and a bottle from Damon's liquor stash. He walked into the room, seemingly oblivious to the tension, and headed for the bedside table. He set down the knife, the blood and the trash can, then pulled a glass tumbler out of his pocket.

"Blood first?"

"Candy's dandy, but liquor's quicker," Damon said tightly and Alaric immediately complied, filling the tumbler from the bottle. He handed the glass to Damon who raised his head just far enough to drain it in one gulp. Alaric filled the glass again and Damon repeated the process. Finally, Alaric took the glass out of Damon's hand and just gave him the bottle.

"You want to wait until you're plastered?" Alaric asked seriously.

Damon didn't answer. He simply brought the bottle to his lips and took a long pull. "Just don't mess up my sheets. They're designer."

Alaric rolled his eyes, but walked to the bathroom and returned with an armful of towels. With a gentleness Elena wouldn't have expected, he tucked them beneath his patient's sides. "That ok?" he asked quietly and waited for the barest nod in return. Alaric then picked up the knife while Damon took another long pull from his bottle.

The small knife looked like it was one from Alaric's personal weapons stash, and Elena had no doubt it was wickedly sharp. He stepped closer to Damon, making sure all of his movements were clearly visible. Vampires were twitchy at the best of times, and an injured vampire was bound to be worse. Damon was a natural predator and currently a cornered, injured one. If his instinct to protect himself kicked in, Elena knew Alaric could be dead almost instantly.

Alaric hesitated, the knife hovering over Damon's middle. "It's not like we have to worry about infection," he said to no one in particular.

"Elena," Damon said forcefully.

It took her a second, but she realized she was staring at the knife, and staring at Alaric, then staring at Damon's blood soaked shirt where it was covering his abdomen.

"Elena," Damon said again, louder this time. It snapped her out of her trance and she turned her head to look at Damon's face. "Look at me," he ordered. He squeezed her hands where she was still holding his. "You look at me. Understand?"

Suddenly, Damon's mouth twisted in pain, and Elena couldn't seem to drown out the noises she heard. Still, Damon didn't look away from her. He kept his eyes on her face, and Elena had no choice but to do the same.

Damon's jaw was clamped so tightly it had to be painful, and the longer the slick, slurping, wet noises went on, followed by clumps being dropped in the plastic bucket, the more rattled Elena became. She knew she was shaking, and Damon was holding himself so rigidly still, it was all the more noticeable. Finally, when Damon couldn't seem to bear it any longer, he closed his eyes and his grip on her hands became so tight she was afraid he might break her fingers.

"You gonna be done anytime soon, there, Ric?" Damon bit out.

Elena wanted to look. Yet at the same time, she couldn't bear to. Her earlier bravery had completely deserted her and she was grateful Alaric had stepped in for this job. Sometimes she felt like she was a thousand years old, tired and world-weary, but right now she just felt like a scared girl and wished she could run away and have her mother or Jenna wrap their arms around her. Instead she kept her eyes glued on Damon's pale, anguished face. He'd told her to keep her eyes on him, and that's what she was going to do.

Damon cried out abruptly, before once again clamping his mouth shut. "Not… cool… Ric."

"Sorry," Alaric muttered.

Elena must have made a noise because Damon's eyes opened and locked with hers. Whatever he saw, Damon's pained gaze shifted and instead of begging for help, he was suddenly offering _her_ strength. He was telling _her_ to hang on, that it was almost over. For such a self-serving sociopath, as he liked to think of himself, he was once again thinking of anything but himself. Of course, if he were well enough to talk, she knew he would say that protecting her was his way of protecting himself.

Alaric stepped closer to the head of the bed, and Elena felt it was safe enough to glance his way. He grabbed the liquor bottle from Damon and took a long swig. He then cleared his throat, looking as green as she'd ever seen him. "I can't get it all," he said grimly. "There's just no way. Not without taking your organs out. There are splinters everywhere. They've worked their way into all the surrounding tissue."

Damon moaned and pulled his hand out of Elena's grip. He grasped the comforter and balled the fabric up in his fist. Elena guessed he'd decided he couldn't wait any longer and needed to be able to hold onto something as tightly as he wanted to without fear of breaking it. Her fingers were tingling as the blood flow returned to them.

"Any more good news you want to share?" Damon demanded, his voice so strained it hurt Elena to hear it.

"Yeah," Alaric replied, completely deadpan. "Santa called. He says you're screwed this year."

"Damn it." Damon twisted slightly on the bed, clearly in agony and quickly losing his ability to hide it. "I really wanted that new Versace jacket."

"What do we do?" Elena demanded, furious at their avoidance of the real issue at hand. "We've got to do _something_."

"It's quite simple, dear."

Elena whipped around to see the witch standing in the doorway.

"You can both die."

* * *

><p><em>As if things weren't bad enough, eh? More soon…<em>


	5. Chapter 5

**Cut and Dried**

Summary: Damon and Elena run into an enemy with a definite ax to grind. Can they save each other before it's too late, or will the past do more than just haunt them… Post 3.2

_So Damon's a mess and the witch is back…_

Chapter Five

* * *

><p>"Is that who I think it is?" Ric asked, staring nervously at the witch.<p>

"I'm going to assume that was rhetorical," Damon said, painfully trying to shift into a sitting position. "Because the other option is that you're an idiot."

"Making friends, Damon?" the witch asked breezily.

"It's a gift," he replied, just as nonchalantly.

The witch stepped farther into the room. She was wearing a different outfit than she had the night before. This dress was less form fitting, but just as expensively elegant. It was dove gray with an empire waist sashed in burgundy colored velvet ribbon.

"Why are you doing this?" Elena asked.

"I have several reasons for being here," the witch replied, her voice just as icily elegant as her fashion sense, "and you," she looked at Alaric, "are not one of them." She made a gesture as if grabbing him and tossing him to one side. Before he could react, Alaric was thrown across the room and slammed into the wall. He tumbled to the floor and didn't move again.

Damon apparently decided he wasn't going to meet his fate lying down. He struggled off the bed, grimacing the whole while, one of his hands pressed firmly to the fresh wound Alaric had made. "Get behind me," he ordered Elena as she, too, slid off the bed. When she didn't move fast enough, Damon roughly pushed her behind him.

The witch smiled. "Protect her all you like, Damon. Her turn will come soon enough."

"Have I mentioned how much empty threats piss me off," he warned. Elena put one of her hands against his back and she could feel a faint trembling beneath her fingers. Damon hadn't had any of the blood Alaric had brought up and she wondered just how desperate his situation really was.

"Empty threats?" She cocked her head to one side. "Is that what you think they are?" She made a show of closing her hand into a tight fist and Damon cried out, dropping to his knees. "Some of those bits of wood left behind, dear? Pity."

"Stop it!" Elena shouted. She knelt down beside Damon who'd completely fallen to the floor. He was turned toward her, the pain so overwhelming he seemed to be completely oblivious to the woman causing it. Elena pulled him toward her so that his head was cradled in her lap, his face pressed into her stomach, but still he seemed unaware. Whatever the witch was doing, Damon was lost to everything else.

"Just tell me what you want!" Elena finally screamed.

The witch waved her hand in a dismissive gesture and Damon's entire body went limp. He wrapped one of his arms around her and pressed his face to her and she still wasn't sure how aware he was of what was going on.

"As I said," the witch began, "I am here for several reasons, but in truth they are all connected." She looked straight at Elena. "It took several months for the news to filter back to me, but once I knew, it really was fairly simple to put two and two together."

"What are you _talking_ about?"

"Our community is not a large one," the woman said. "Any death is cause for sadness."

"You mean witches," Elena asked for clarification. After all, they'd just been assuming the woman was a witch. For all she knew, there was some new awful something worse out there that had managed to track them down to make their lives miserable.

"Of course, dear," the witch replied as if talking to a simpleton. "As I was saying, a death is cause for sadness. A murder, however…"

Elena had a terrible feeling. "What murder?"

"The vampire you're clinging to as if he is anything but an abomination… he killed a witch named Bree."

"He killed her?" Elena's throat was suddenly dry. She'd never really thought about it before, but knowing what she did about Damon's tendencies when he'd first returned to Mystic Falls, it wasn't truly a surprise. If Damon had connected her in some way to his almost-barbecue, then he would have shown no mercy.

"Yes," the witch said coldly. "And that alone makes him worthy of a slow, very painful death." She raised one finger and moved it in a slow circle. Every muscle in Damon's body instantly tensed. His breath left him in a rush that she could feel against her skin and his arm tightened around her painfully. After several seconds, the witch flicked her finger as if removing a crumb and once again Damon sagged against her.

"Yet, there is more," the witch continued disdainfully. "There always is with this one. Bree was not the first witch he found to help him in his incessant search for Katherine Pierce. He has taunted, charmed, threatened, seduced, or harassed every witch he could find, which thankfully was not many." Her voice suddenly became glacial. "Bree, however, was a friend."

"I'm sorry," Elena said plainly. "She… seemed nice."

"For his part in what happened to her, Damon Salvatore will die. That, however, is not the root of the problem."

Elena frowned. "What?"

"Katherine Pierce. She is the one who made him. She is to blame. She has been a thorn in our side for longer than I can say, using witch after witch as if we are her playthings to be manipulated. Which brings me to the true reason I have come here."

Elena hardly dared to ask. "What's that?"

"You see, when I was told of Bree's death, I immediately looked into it. The details were easy enough to discover, some of them from Bree herself. The most interesting part, however, was not that Damon had once again come looking for a way to free Katherine and then thrown a tantrum when he did not get his way. Oh, no. The most interesting part was that he was not alone. The girl accompanying him was very, very special. A doppelganger."

Damon's arm around her tightened suddenly and she knew that he was listening. She leaned over him setting one hand on his back and the other in his hair, soothing him as best she could. Doppelganger hijinks or not, he needed blood badly, not to mention the mulch splinters still stabbing him with every movement.

"A doppelganger is a wondrous thing," the witch continued almost professorially. "You have so many uses, and not just to vampires or werewolves. So, so many uses…"

Elena looked up and saw the greedy fascination in the woman's eyes and it made her blood run cold. She'd never been happy about her existence being such an oddity, but at the moment, she wasn't sure that the witch saw her as any different from all of the other ingredients in her spells. She had a sudden premonition of seeing a dusty jar on a shelf labeled "Doppelganger" right next to a jar of "Eye of Newt."

The witch cleared her throat, coming back from her fantasies. "Nevertheless, for right now, I think I will be content with one very basic use for you."

"And that is?"

"The connection between you and Katherine, dear. One little spell to enhance the link and violà." She smiled and it was so frightening, Elena automatically recoiled. "I kill you and not only does Katherine die a well deserved death, but there is also the added reward of seeing Damon Salvatore suffer immeasurably before he too dies. It seems the poor fellow is a bit of a one trick pony where your face is concerned."

"Elena?" Damon said so softly she almost doubted he'd said it. She leaned down over him, her hair forming a sort of shield as she brought her face close to his.

"It's ok," she whispered. "Just lie still."

Damon smirked. "Hold on tight."

Elena frowned in confusion. "What?"

"_Tight_," he said again, and before Elena even realized what was happening, Damon was off the floor and she was clinging to him as he flew out the door past the startled witch and down the stairs toward the front entrance, faster than she'd ever seen him move, faster than should have been possible in the state he was.

Once downstairs, he set her down so abruptly, she stumbled through the now open door, barely managing not to fall. She turned in time to see Damon drop to his knees and wrap both arms around his abdomen.

"Run!" he commanded. When she shot him a look to tell him he'd gone crazy, he bellowed the order again. "Run!"

"Oh, Damon, dear…"

Elena could tell the witch was coming down the main staircase. Damon pointed at her, ordering her to leave. She had absolutely no intention of leaving him alone, and instead chose to hide just outside the door to one side, and therefore just outside the witch's line of vision. Hopefully, she would think Elena had run for the hills.

Damon let out a horrible, agony-filled gasp and Elena could imagine him trying to get to his feet again. The witch's high heels came closer to the door and then the distinctive sound of Damon's boots moved to one side and she knew he was moving down the corridor toward the great room. Elena waited until the witch followed before she dared to take a peek.

Damon was backing away, one of the rare times Elena had ever seen him looking very much like the prey instead of the predator. The witch matched him step for step as Damon backed toward the great room, her movements as dangerously sinuous as a snake.

"Damon, there is no need for these dramatics." Elena couldn't see the woman's face, but she could easily imagine the wicked pitying look she would be wearing. "It isn't as if you have a chance of escape. Not with the wood chips in you."

"I've been staked before, honey. And by a lot better and meaner than you."

"Oh, but you see, Damon, the wood chips, they are natural. Where as _you_… are an unnatural _thing_." She gestured very slightly with her hand and Damon cried out. He backed into a side table and put out a hand to keep from falling. When he looked up, his eyes widened very slightly and Elena knew she'd been spotted sneaking up behind the witch.

"You see, dear, a witch manipulates the natural world. I can control every little bit inside you. If I choose to send one straight to your heart," she twitched her hand yet again, and Damon let out a strangled cry, "you'll be dead before you hit the floor."

Damon looked at Elena, as close to panic as she had ever seen him. His eyes moved from her to just beside her head, nearly begging for her to understand. Elena turned and saw that there was a set of swords hanging on the wall.

"I don't even know your name," Damon said tightly, trying to keep the witch's attention while Elena removed one of the swords from the supports on the wall.

"There is absolutely no reason for you to know," she replied coldly. "Just know that your miserable existence was ended by a witch."

Damon stood up straight. "Fine, then, _witch_." He made the word sound dirty. "You might be big and bad, but you forgot one thing… I was born before guns were the be all and end all."

Damon held out his hand and looked at Elena who took her cue. Praying that her aim was good enough she tossed the sword past the witch. Damon caught the hilt gracefully and faster than Elena could see plunged the sword into the witch's heart. He tore it free and with a furious swing, lopped the woman's head from her shoulders. It rolled away and came to rest right at Elena's feet.

Damon, spattered with the witch's blood, smirked angrily and in a fanciful motion put his sword back into an imaginary scabbard at his waist.

"Just like riding a bike."

* * *

><p><em>Remember Damon grabbing a sword for a werewolf attack? Well, it works for witches, too. Here's to antiquated means of defense! More soon…<em>


	6. Chapter 6

**Cut and Dried**

Summary: Damon and Elena run into an enemy with a definite ax to grind. Can they save each other before it's too late, or will the past do more than just haunt them… Post 3.2

_So… Ding, dong, the witch is dead, but unfortunately, that doesn't clear up Damon's little wood chip problem… As an aside, Caroline is in this story because I've always been uncomfortable with the thought that Elena was sleeping like a baby and then went to Chicago while Caroline was missing. So for the purposes of this story, Caroline was already rescued, this story happened, and then Elena went on her ill-fated trip north._

_Anyhoo… splinter problem. Here we go…_

Chapter Six

* * *

><p>Elena sped to Damon's side. She pulled his arm across her shoulders and together they moved toward the closest sofa. Damon's shirt was a freshly bloodied mess, and she was afraid he was actually protecting his abdomen in order to keep his own innards on the inside.<p>

Damon fell onto the sofa and, to Elena's dismay, actually allowed her to help him put his feet up so he could lie down. "Blood," he said unnecessarily. "And… Ric. Check on Ric."

Elena had completely forgotten about him in their mad dash to get away from the witch. She left Damon and barreled up the stairs, where she could take care of both tasks he'd given her.

When she entered Damon's bedroom, she saw that Alaric was just getting to his feet. He looked dizzy and pale, but he was alive. Of course, with his ring, he would have been no matter what, but she'd take a win where she could get it.

"Are you all right?" she asked breathlessly. As soon as he nodded, she hurried to the bedside and began gathering up the bags of blood Alaric had brought up earlier.

"I think I'd be in better shape if I'd died," he replied grumpily.

"Don't tell Damon. He'd probably be willing to help you with that."

Alaric gave her a weak smile. "The jerk probably would." He noticed what she was doing and came to help. "How is he?"

"Not good." Honestly, Elena didn't have time to say more than that. She turned and ran down the stairs as quickly as she'd come up them.

"What about the witch?" Alaric called, following close behind her. His steps faltered, however, when he caught sight of the headless body still lying in plain sight. "Well, that answers that question."

"Here." Elena thrust one of the blood bags into Damon's hands. If anything, he looked even worse. He was starting to take on that ashen look of vampires that had been staked. He struggled to bring the bag up to his mouth and bit into it, sucking it dry in seconds. She handed him a second bag and he repeated the process. His color improved, but the wound in his abdomen was the real issue. She lifted up his ruined shirt and frowned, both at the sight of the wound and Damon's lack of a normal response to being ogled.

"It's not healing," Damon observed without even looking.

"You can tell?" Alaric asked.

"It's the wood chips," he said. He held out his hand and Elena gave him another blood bag. "It's like she threw a pile of stakes in there. It won't heal. She had to witchy it closed the first time."

"So what do we do?" Elena eyed him nervously. Vampires either healed or they died. She had no clue what to do with one who was… somewhere in between.

"Call Bonnie," he suggested, just the movement necessary to breathe and speak visibly causing him pain. "If Witch Bitch could manipulate the wood chips, then maybe Witchy Jr. can figure out how to get them out." He paused. "Preferably soon. The bit next to my heart," he grimaced, "is giving me some grief."

Elena's eyes widened in horror. "Your heart?"

"She wasn't joking." Damon grimaced again. "She moved one right to my heart. I can feel it," he winced, "scraping against it."

Elena couldn't get to a phone fast enough. Her parents were gone, her biological parents were gone, Jenna was gone, and Stefan was… off somewhere. There was no way on this earth she was going to let Damon go, too. By the time she'd found her phone that Ric had rescued from the crash the night before, she was panting and probably looked like a crazy person.

"_Hey, Elena._"

"Bonnie, I need your help."

"_And hello to you to_," her friend replied, sounding a little miffed.

"Sorry, sorry." Elena was immediately contrite, but her panic level was too high. She took a deep breath to steady herself. "It's good to hear your voice."

"_But…_"

"But we have a problem."

"_When don't we_?" Bonnie's sigh carried loudly through the phone line. "_What is it_?"

Elena quickly laid out the situation. She turned to watch Damon as she spoke, dread tugging at her heart. All summer, she'd been focused on rescuing Stefan. She wasn't supposed to have to worry about Damon. Not like this. The werewolf bite had been an aberration. Two minutes after being stabbed, Damon was supposed to be healthy and sauntering around the house, tossing out insults and generally being the trial to others that he loved to be.

"_I don't know, Elena_," Bonnie finally said. "_I've never tried anything like that. And there's no way I can leave here. My dad's family will know something weird is going on_."

"Just look," Elena begged. "We don't know what else to do. Damon's… not good."

"_How bad is it_?" Bonnie asked more gently. Her reaction was just one of the reasons why Elena loved having a friend like Bonnie. She _understood_, without Elena even having to explain. After losing Jenna and Stefan on top of everything else, she knew Elena couldn't take much more. _Elena_ certainly knew it.

"Bad. A piece lodged by his heart is hurting him." Even as she said it, she noticed how still Damon was lying, an unnatural stillness. She'd seen it before, but only from bodies in coffins. "Please, Bonnie. We need him." _I need him_, she silently added. If there was ever going to be a hope of getting Stefan back, she needed him. If anyone could keep her safe from Klaus, it was him. Deep down, if she could bring herself to admit it, she just needed him to be there, period.

"_I'll look, Elena. Give me a little time and I'll call you back_."

"Thank you." She smiled even though Bonnie couldn't see it. "It really is good to hear your voice. I've missed you."

They both hung up, and then Elena simply stood there, unsure of what do next. Things had been so desperate when the witch attacked that she hadn't had the time to think about her interaction with Damon. Now that the witch was dead and they had time to figure out what to do… How was she supposed to act around him now? After Damon's werewolf bite was cured, she'd immediately reinstated their normal barriers, such as they were, and focused on finding Stefan. Damon was hurting though. He needed her. And yet a niggling little feeling at the back of her mind told her she was somehow crossing a line by looking after Damon so closely, even though he was injured.

"Don't worry," he said into the strained silence. "I think we already did the awkward deathbed confessions thing. I'll settle for a drink and the remote this time."

Elena looked at Ric who nodded and immediately moved toward Damon's liquor collection. It was just as well. Alaric was his drinking buddy. Sometimes, she thought that he might understand Damon better than she did. They certainly both understood the pining-for-a-lost-love obsession, as well as the follow-up getting-emotionally-kicked-in-the-teeth-by-said-lost-love.

"There's no TV in here, Damon. No remote," she reminded him, as Alaric gave him his drink.

"Too true," he answered. He didn't raise the glass to his lips, and Elena could see that even that much movement was too painful for him. "It would clash with the décor. Stefan wanted one once, but he has the decorating sense of a colorblind hippie, a drunk, colorblind hippie."

Elena winced. She knew Stefan was out there right now, probably doing unspeakable things. They hadn't had any leads, though, not in a while, which somehow made it worse. It somehow made him more… gone.

"We'll find him, Elena," Damon said almost apologetically.

She nodded, then walked toward him. Damon was the one hurting right now. He didn't need to be comforting her. He was the one lying on the sofa with a bleeding, open wound.

Elena sat down on the floor. She took the still full glass out of his hand and set it aside. She propped her elbow up on the sofa, took Damon's hand in hers and held it to her chest. "Stop talking, Damon. Just hold on. Bonnie'll come up with something soon."

"She better," he muttered. "My patience with witches is running thin today."

* * *

><p>Elena jumped when her cell phone rang. She'd been sitting immobile beside Damon for what felt like hours. Alaric had taken care of the body, then returned to sit in one of the overstuffed chairs, drinking steadily. Caroline and Tyler had returned, too, after hearing about the attack. They were sitting next to each other on the sofa opposite, alternately casting each other adoring looks and glancing in Elena's direction, as if questioning her judgment and or sanity at being so close to Damon.<p>

Elena quickly picked up her phone. "Bonnie," she said in relief. "Please, tell me you found something."

"_I did… but… you're not gonna like it_."

"Why not?"

"_Well… I found a spell that will pull the wood chips out of Damon. Basically, it will separate natural and unnatural matter_."

"What's the catch?"

"_Well… fundamentally, Damon is unnatural."_

Damon snorted and Elena shot him a warning glance. His only response was to smirk.

Bonnie continued, unaware of their silent side conversation. _"The only thing keeping him alive is blood. If we use the spell to rip the wood chips out, it's going to pull all of the blood out, too, everything natural. Best case scenario, he'll be like the tomb vampires. He'll be blood-crazed and dried up like he's been starved for a hundred years. Worst case scenario…"_

Elena hardly dared to ask, but she had to. "What?"

"_When the spell pulls the wood chips out… I don't know if there's any way to control it, Elena. The spell could rip them out right through his heart_."

* * *

><p><em>More soon…<em>


	7. Chapter 7

**Cut and Dried**

Summary: Damon and Elena run into an enemy with a definite ax to grind. Can they save each other before it's too late, or will the past do more than just haunt them… Post 3.2

_Pardon the delay. Can't say no to the boss. Anyway, when last we met, Bonnie was explaining that the spell will work, but it'll drain Damon dry and it just might rip the wood chips out through his heart…_

Chapter Seven

* * *

><p>"Ok," Damon said, sounding as subdued as Elena had ever heard him. "I vote no on tearing out my heart."<p>

"The witch who attacked us could manipulate every individual piece," Elena tried.

"_Elena, I'm still pretty new at this_," Bonnie responded, a trace of impatience in her tone. "_I mean… I'm getting better, but some of this takes years to learn._"

"I know. I'm sorry," Elena said quickly. "I'm just… frustrated." _Scared_.

Bonnie sighed. "_I know. I'm doing the best I can_."

"So tell me about the spell."

"_I have to connect the spell to an object, which then has to touch his bare skin, so I'll make it and send it to you. Once you have it, I _think_ it should draw the wood chips toward it, so hopefully away from his heart_."

"So glad this is a guessing game," Damon murmured.

"How long will it take you to make it?" Caroline asked loudly so Bonnie could hear. Like Damon, she'd been using her vampire-hearing to listen in.

"_Not long. It's pretty easy to make_."

Caroline immediately hopped up, all bouncy, helpful cheerleader. "I'll go compel a UPS person then. They'll pick it up and bring it straight to us."

"Thanks, Caroline." Elena looked in her direction but she was already gone, and had apparently taken Tyler with her.

"If it will take down a vampire that easily," Damon cleared his throat, then grimaced, "why haven't you used it before."

Elena raised an eyebrow at that. Bonnie and Damon had certainly had their issues and Bonnie had been more than willing to take them out on Damon's brain one aneurism at a time.

"_What did he say_?"

"He wants to know why you haven't used it on him if it's so easy to make."

"_It has to touch the person, and apparently, a vampire can feel the spell coming from a mile away. Any witch who's tried it, the vampire either just leaves, or rushes them and rips their head off._"

"Ah," was all Damon said.

"Ok, Bonnie. Thank you. Caroline is sending a UPS driver to make a pick-up at your place."

"_Tell Damon he owes me_."

Before Elena could pass on the message Damon replied, "Tell Witchy, if this works, I won't tear her head off for making it in the first place."

"He says ok," Elena reported, earning a weak glare from him. "And thanks again, Bonnie."

"_I'll see you soon_."

Elena tucked her phone away and sighed, if not in relief, then at least at the knowledge they had some sort of plan.

"Someone wanna fill in the guy without super-hearing?"

Elena turned at the sound of Alaric's voice and realized he was the only one who'd been getting a one-sided conversation. She quickly filled him in and watched as his frown grew more and more pronounced.

"This is a bad idea."

"I either turn into a buffalo chip or I die. Can't say I'm a big fan either," Damon agreed.

"Guys, it's all we have." Elena looked back and forth between them. Damon just waved a hand in Alaric's direction as if telling him to keep going.

"Elena, if this doesn't kill him, he's going to be a blood-starved maniac. He'll drain anyone he comes across until he's had enough blood."

"He won't. We'll be here to help him," she explained.

"There's no way we can be here." Alaric sat forward in his seat to emphasize what he was saying. "Elena, he'll kill you and he'll kill me and he won't care, not until after we're dead and he's not hungry anymore."

"He won't." Elena put as much certainty into her voice as she could muster. She hazarded a glance at Damon and saw he was looking particularly grave.

"He's right," Damon stated plainly. "If I'm that desperate I can't guarantee I'll even know it's you."

Elena stood up so that for once she was the one towering over him. "You didn't kill me before and you won't now." Damon had been dying, hallucinating, and confused and still he'd stopped himself.

"This is different. I wasn't starving then."

"No, you were sick, crazy and seeing things."

"What are you two talking about?" Alaric demanded. "Did he hurt you?" He looked ready to leap out of his chair and stake Damon while he was down.

"No, he didn't," Elena stopped him, "and that's the point. He has more control than you think." She gathered up her courage to say what came next. "He has more control than Stefan has."

Alaric was already shaking his head. "Elena, you can't take that chance. And it's not even necessary for you to do it. Bonnie will send whatever it is she ties the spell to. We'll leave a huge blood supply right here and he can set the spell off by himself." He looked at Damon. "We should take your ring, too. It'll keep you in the house until you get yourself under control."

"And if the spell kills him?" Elena shot back angrily.

"Then we'll know that too if he doesn't come out at nightfall."

"Wow," Damon muttered. "I can feel the love."

"I'm not leaving him," Elena said stubbornly.

"Ok, I am awesome!" All eyes turned to see Caroline practically skipping back into the room. She looked a little windblown and had obviously run most of the way. "Not only did I get a UPS guy to arrange an emergency pick-up at Bonnie's, I compelled a pilot to go get it!"

"What?" Elena and Alaric said it at the same time.

"Don't worry," Caroline's tone was placating. "He was a doctor or a lawyer or something just going up for a pleasure cruise in one of those little two-seater planes. I told him to go to the airport closest to Bonnie and get the package from the UPS guy, then he's going to bring it right back here."

"That's…," _unethical_, _disturbing_, "quick thinking, Caroline. Thanks." Elena gave her an appreciative smile. If it got the spell to them faster, then it was worth the guy giving up his day off.

"Great. So, the spell thingy's on the way, and Damon'll be fixed up in no time." Caroline smiled, clearly pleased with herself. "Anything else I can do? I've kind of got a… thing." She was already edging toward the door, and Elena had to smile. Caroline always had too many irons in the fire, and all of them seemed to involve decorating for something or other. Elena used to be the same way, but that was another lifetime ago.

"Go ahead. We've got this," Elena said.

"Are you sure?" Caroline looked toward Damon doubtfully. Elena followed her gaze and saw that Damon was ignoring everyone. In fact, he looked asleep, except Elena knew there was no way he could actually rest given the state he was in.

"We'll be fine. Ric and I have this. We'll use the spell and everything will go back to normal." Except it was never that simple and they all knew it. But it was nice to pretend. Elena thought that much of her life seemed to follow that same track ever since vampires had come back to Mystic Falls. In truth, she really just wanted Caroline to be gone when the spell arrived. If vampires reacted badly to it, then Caroline was too new to be safe. She might not have the control Damon did.

"Ok, great. Tyler's waiting downtown, so…"

Elena nodded and gestured for her to go ahead. As Caroline headed for the door, Elena returned to Damon's side. She once again sat on the floor beside him. She didn't take his hand as she had before, but she felt better being close. She tried not to think about why that was, but she had to at least admit it was true. She wanted, maybe needed, to be there with him when he was hurting so badly.

Damon had many faults, but cutting through the layers of pretense and deceit was not one of them. When he decided it was time or just because it suited him, he brutally swept away everything else clouding any issue and just laid it out there for her to see.

_When I drag my brother from the edge and deliver him back to you, I want you to remember the things you felt while he was gone_.

Ever since he'd said that to her, she hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. When they were in the mountains and the moon had risen, she'd been so afraid for him. Even more so when the wolf had chased him and she'd been unable to follow. The thought of losing him had been unbearable. Looking at him now, remembering how hard he'd tried to protect her from the witch, how careful he'd been with her the night before when she was hurt, it made her feel… _loved_. Maybe she didn't feel the same way about him, certainly not how she felt about Stefan, but still, she would be heartless if she didn't feel something for him.

What that something was? That was up in the air.

"I wasn't kidding, Elena," Ric said into the silence. "There's no way I'm leaving you here with him when the spell's set off."

"This is not negotiable." Elena looked at him straightly. "I didn't leave him when he was sick and I won't leave him now."

"It's suicide and you know it," he shot back.

"Will you two please shut up?" Damon moaned. "You're giving me a headache, which until a few minutes ago, was the only part of my body that _didn't_ hurt."

"Then tell her to leave," Alaric ordered.

"Just do what I would." Damon shifted slightly on the sofa and gasped at the pain it caused. "Throw her over your shoulder and go," he added through gritted teeth.

"That's not funny," Elena snapped.

"Please," Damon said more quietly, and it was such an odd, un-Damon-like thing to say. She didn't know if he was asking her to go, or if he just wanted them to be quiet. His face had that drawn look of people who'd been in pain for a prolonged period of time. Whatever it was, she and Ric both fell silent, and they settled in to wait.

* * *

><p>Elena blinked and realized she'd fallen asleep. She could feel fingers in her hair moving in a slow soothing circle. A second later she became aware that she was still sitting on the floor, leaning against the sofa and her head was resting against Damon's hip. He must have realized she was awake because he removed his hand and set it gently at his side, his fingers just brushing hers where her hand was resting on the cushion.<p>

Elena snapped upright, eyes wide. "Did I hurt you?"

Damon's composed expression didn't change. "Yes. It's a great trial to have a beautiful woman fall asleep on me."

"I didn't mean to-"

"In case you haven't noticed," he cut her off smoothly, "I have no problem complaining when I'm not happy." He closed his eyes tiredly. "I'd have let you know."

Elena sighed. "How long was I asleep?"

"A little while," he answered. "Ric wanted to move you, but I told him to leave you alone."

"Where is he?"

"He was starting to snore, so I made him go away. He went to find a bed while we wait."

Elena just nodded. Alaric had spent the night before in a car crash and then looking for them. Today hadn't been any easier on him. It was no wonder he'd fallen asleep. "Did you rest?" she asked.

"I have a stake trying to poke a hole in my heart, so… no."

Elena felt a fresh flush of guilt for leaving him alone to wait. "Sorry I wasn't better company."

"It gave me time to think." His smirk grew. "And your nose has this cute little crinkle when you're dreaming."

"It does not." Elena raised her hand to give him her normal playful smack and just managed to stop herself.

"Thank you," he murmured, and as always, Elena wondered how he did that without seeing her.

"What were you thinking about?" she asked.

"I was thinking about where to find a new rug since the witch ruined the one she landed on. Funnily enough, arterial spray doesn't come out."

Elena rolled her eyes, although she smiled. "How did you get to be so," _fussy, uptight, fashion-conscious_, "particular, when you say Stefan has the sensibilities of a colorblind hippie?"

Damon, however, did not seem amused. As a matter of fact, he seemed unusually serious. "It's about _control_, Elena," he said very quietly. "As a vampire, Stefan's natural state is a Ripper. He sees what he wants and he takes it, all impulse. When he's on the wagon, he's not a killer, but that tendency is always inside him. He's nice and boring, but he still follows his heart, follows whatever pleases him, or interests him. It's why he's been to college so many times. It's why his room is a collection of little souvenirs from here and there. He fights his nature, but it's always there, and it's always a battle. Sometimes he wins and sometimes he loses."

"And you?"

"I control my emotions, and I control the bloodlust. I _choose_ where and when to let them loose." He smiled wearily. "Don't get me wrong. I like to let the monster loose, but I choose when and where. It doesn't control me. I may have been passive as a human, but Stefan took my last human choice from me. One of my last thoughts as I turned was that no one would ever control me like that again."

"So you're OC about your house and your clothes?"

"I like things to be a certain way," was all he said.

Elena had often wondered about his designer tendencies. She knew he'd been raised to be a gentleman. A certain level of dress and a home worthy of his station would have been as natural to him as breathing.

It was more than just his upbringing, though. Elena had been surprised when she'd seen his room. Damon had seen to it that the furnishings were elegant and luxurious, yet simple, a mix of starkly modern amenities with carefully chosen touches from the past. It wasn't just control for Damon. It was comfort.

The vampire tried to control him, but he fought to control it. His lost humanity, his emotions, warred with everything he was now, and he controlled that, too, to the point of shutting them down completely. His life demanded that he never stay long in one place, that he hunt to live, a never-ending unpleasant and messy experience. When his humanity was taken, control and comfort were all that were left to him.

"When Stefan's off the wagon, he's very helter-skelter, following whims and instincts. Me…," Damon smirked, "when I'm not being nagged by bossy brunettes to be the better man, I'm still a control freak. And when things don't go the way I want them to go, people die."

Elena had to think about that. When he'd first arrived she'd thought of him as a reckless, impulsive killer. Now… she could see what he was saying. He had plans within plans and when those plans were thwarted, he lashed out trying to reassert some control. When Zach helped lock him away, Damon killed him for his interference. When Emily refused to help him with the crystal, he turned on her descendant, Bonnie, reasserting his dominance, his ultimate control over the witches. When she and Stefan found the grimoire first, he'd threatened her and used her to get what he wanted. When Katherine had rejected him and then Elena too had refused his advances, he'd immediately and brutally killed Jeremy letting her know who was really in charge. Most recently, before the showdown with Klaus when no one was listening to his doubts, he'd force-fed her his blood so that, no matter what, his plan to keep her alive would work.

"Is that what happened with Bree? Your plans didn't go the way you wanted and you killed her?" Elena held her breath, wondering if he would admit what he'd done.

"More or less," he said, and Elena had a feeling that was all the explanation she was ever going to get.

Elena tucked her hair behind her ear, trying to gather up her thoughts that were going a mile a minute. When that got her nowhere, she sighed. Understanding all of the facets that made up the mess that was Damon Salvatore would take a lifetime. "So that's all you've been thinking about while I was asleep? A new rug?"

"No, actually." Damon opened one eye and looked at her. "I was thinking that I pity any crime scene team that ever comes into this house."

Elena laughed and shook her head. "There aren't enough black lights in the world to light this place up."

Suddenly, Damon stiffened, as if his entire body went on high alert. "I think our spell is about to arrive," he said tightly.

"Are you all right?"

Damon clenched his teeth. "Bonnie wasn't kidding. I…"

"What is it?"

"Whoever has the spell is lucky I can't move, because I _really_ wanna tear their head off for bringing it anywhere near me."

"Just hold on," Elena urged. "I'll be right back."

"You just want the spell before Alaric wakes up."

Elena stopped and looked at him seriously. "I'm not leaving you." She'd meant it before and she meant it now. Damon simply blinked and accepted it just as he had when he'd been bitten and ordered her to leave.

Elena heard a car pulling up out front and hurried to the door. She threw it open and saw a pudgy, balding man in his fifties getting out of a taxi. He came to the door and said, "Are you Elena?"

"Yes." The man had a dazed look in his eye, and had definitely been compelled.

"This is for you." He held out a small bubble wrap mailer with a lump at one end.

Elena took the package from him. "Thank you very much. You can go home now."

The man just nodded, still looking slightly dazed and headed back to the taxi. Elena supposed the compulsion wouldn't wear off until he was back at the airport where he'd started. Hopefully, he would have a pleasant memory of a nice flight on his day off.

Before going back to Damon, Elena made a quick trip to the basement and brought up as many blood bags as she could carry. Elena hurried back into the great room and dropped the blood bags right beside Damon. She then tore open the bubble mailer and peeked in. Inside was a rock, a common, ordinary, probably-from-the-gravel-driveway rock.

Elena looked up and saw that Damon was staring at her, a dangerous glint in his eye.

"Damon?" Elena asked nervously.

"Just give me a minute," he warned. Damon closed his eyes and seemed to be concentrating, and Elena had the uncomfortable feeling he was trying to curb his instinct to just kill her and dispose of the spell.

"We have to do this," she said, trying to keep her tone nice and even despite how much she suddenly wanted to run.

"Just do it before I can think about it," Damon ordered abruptly. "Do it _now_."

Elena tipped the envelope up and let the rock fall into her hand. She stepped closer to him and every step she took, Damon seemed to draw back. He was grimacing, clearly in agony, but despite knowing this had to be done he was trying to scoot away from her.

Before he actually gave in to his fight or flight instinct, Elena hurried forward and placed her empty hand on his chest over his heart. "This will be over in just a minute."

He placed his own hand over hers. "Unless it kills me," he said tersely.

"It won't." And that was all she was going to say on the matter. "Ready?"

Damon gave the barest of nods and released her hand, grabbing the sofa cushion beneath him. Elena pulled his shirttail up and tried not to be sick at the sight of the open wound that Damon had been forced to endure the entire time they'd been waiting. He had to have been in horrible pain, and still he had talked to her as if they were simply having a normal, everyday conversation.

Elena took one last look at Damon's gray, pain-filled face and set the rock low on his belly below the incision Alaric had made. For several seconds nothing seemed to be happening. Then Damon fell stock still.

"Elena, get back," he ordered.

Elena hurried to put some distance between them and just as she stumbled into the opposite sofa and sat down, Damon lurched wildly. The rock floated up and stayed about a foot above his abdomen. He arched his back and let out a low guttural cry.

Suddenly, the rock began to spin and Elena saw small wood chips begin to come out of the wound. A few seconds later, Damon fell back to the sofa. His mouth opened in a silent scream and then right in front of her eyes, he began to fade away.

It was as if the life was literally being sucked out of him, like watching one of those time lapse films. In a matter of seconds, his skin began to cave in on itself. His cheeks began to hollow, his beautiful hair turned dry and lost its deep color and his entire body seemed to shrink. She remembered seeing the dried up vampires in the tomb and at the rate Damon was going he would look exactly like them in under a minute.

Elena's heart was beating so hard it hurt, but the only thing she could think was that he might be turning into a desiccated husk, but at least he was still alive. If she could get blood back into him, he would be fine.

For just a moment, a hysterical laugh tried to bubble up. She'd spent her entire summer trying to figure out how to find Stefan and dry him out and now all she could think about was how quickly she could get blood into Damon.

The rock that held the spell fell and landed on Damon's dried corpse. Elena immediately sprang off the opposite sofa. She grabbed the rock and flung it away from him, then snatched up one of the blood bags. She opened it so that the tube could be used like a straw. She tried to press it to his lips, but his teeth were clamped shut. She used her free hand and grasped his chin, trying not to cringe at the feel of his dry, paper thin skin. She was afraid she would break his jaw, and to her horror she heard a crack as she opened his mouth enough to force the tube past his teeth.

As soon as the tube was in, she squeezed the bag and forced the blood into his mouth. She looked up and nearly dropped the bag when she saw his eyes open, blood red and staring at her.

Damon reached up a desiccated hand and took the bag from her. Elena immediately backed away. He sat up slowly, staring at her the entire time. He finished the bag and tossed it away.

In the year they'd known each other, Damon had looked at her many ways. He'd looked at her like she was a nuisance, a science project, a necessary part of some scheme, an enemy, a friend, a lifeline, a lover.

Right now, he was looking at her as if she was one thing.

Lunch.

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><p><em>The wrap-up's all that's left. Shouldn't be too long…<em>


	8. Chapter 8

**Cut and Dried**

Summary: Damon and Elena run into an enemy with a definite ax to grind. Can they save each other before it's too late, or will the past do more than just haunt them… Post 3.2

_And here it is, all wrapped up. I was considering an epilogue, but I think this'll get the job done. Thank you for every single review. Y'all make it worth the effort to come up with a story._

Chapter Eight

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><p>"Damon…"<p>

His dried lips drew back and Elena got a front row view of his fangs in all of their terrifying glory. Her heart was hammering in her chest which couldn't be helping matters. To a starving vampire she had to look like a buffet on legs. Right at that second, feeling Damon's ravenous stare, she was pretty sure Alaric had been right and she was a suicidal idiot.

"Damon, it's Elena," she said calmly. "There's blood right beside you. Lots and lots of blood. Remember? I brought it up because we knew you would need it after the spell."

He actually hissed at her, and she had a horrible feeling the only reason he hadn't already attacked her and drained her was because he was nearly petrified he was so dry.

Elena edged her way toward the blood bags, Damon's hawk-like, predatory eyes on her every step of the way. She grabbed the closest bag, opened it so the blood would flow and tossed it to him. Instinctively, his hand snapped up to catch it. He brought the bag to his lips and drained the bag in a matter of seconds.

Elena leaned down to grab another bag and when she stood up, Damon was inches from her, staring down at her hungrily.

"Damon." Her voice trembled and there was nothing she could do about it. She was looking at a dried corpse instead of her sometimes friend. "It's Elena. You don't want to hurt me."

Damon's hands reached out and grasped her shoulders in an iron grip. He pulled her closer so they were barely a breath apart. He raised his head slightly and she knew he could smell the dried blood in her hair. When that didn't seem to hold his interest, he leaned down and Elena flinched when the side of his face brushed hers. His lips skimmed across her cheek then downward settling on her neck in a feather-light caress that wasn't quite a kiss, but was just as unsettling.

Elena waited for him to strike. She could feel his cool breath against her neck and knew that her life hung in the balance.

"Damon?" she whispered.

He straightened and one of his arms snaked around her waist and pulled her flush against him. Elena gasped and tried to free herself, but he was too strong. His other hand dropped lower, gliding down her arm. She shivered at the contact, all the while keeping her eyes on his as he watched her, feeling like a mouse waiting for the cat to pounce. His hand simply continued its slow glide down her arm until finally he reached her hand. He grasped the blood bag she was still holding and pulled it from her tightly clenched fingers.

"Thank you," he said, his voice a dry rasp.

Immediately, Damon released her and stepped back. He raised the blood bag to his mouth and tore into it, draining it quickly. Elena didn't wait. She picked up another and threw it to him. For several minutes it was like an assembly line. He drank while she readied the next bag. When she saw the supply was running low, she ran for the basement and brought more. Damon drank and drank until he was almost _pink_.

Finally, Damon tossed the last bag down, threw back his head and let out a shout of pure triumph. He then scooped Elena up in his arms and twirled her in a circle, bursting with exuberance as he danced her around the room.

"Are you crazy? Put me down!" Elena screeched. Her heart was still banging away in her chest, going from absolute certainty that Damon was going to drain her dry to certainty that he'd gone insane and would kill her accidentally when he forgot she was human and breakable.

Damon set her down and to her shock he was wearing an honest to goodness smile. Damon just didn't do… pleased. The sight was so beautiful, Elena had to give him a smile of her own.

"Well, that went well," he said.

Elena just shook her head in disbelief. "No one's dead anyway. Is that our new measurement for success?"

"The witch is dead," he reminded her. "I, for one, _definitely_ put that in the success column."

"How do you feel?"

"Like I just got done with Thanksgiving dinner, but without the turkey hangover."

Elena could believe it. She'd never seen him with such color to his skin. He looked almost… healthy.

"I haven't felt this good since I-"

"Since you what?" Elena asked suspiciously when he cut himself off.

Damon's mouth twisted into his more normal smirk. "Since I did something _naughty_ that you _certainly_ wouldn't approve of." He raised a hand to stop her. "Now, now. I wouldn't do anything like that again." He raised one brow. "Probably."

Elena's eyes narrowed in warning. "Probably?

"Well, at least not while you're watching."

"Damon!"

He smirked and it was the old Damon and she couldn't even stay mad at him. She was too glad he was better.

"What's going on?" Alaric demanded as he stormed down the stairs, a stake in hand. "I heard yelling." He pointed the stake at Damon. "You, get away from her!"

"Ric," Damon's voice was low and dangerously controlled, "I'd suggest you quit pointing that thing at me. My tolerance for people staking me is now _beyond_ nonexistent."

"It's ok, Ric." Elena hurriedly stepped between the two men. "It's fine. We already used the spell. Everything's ok now."

Ric moved to one side, never taking his eyes off Damon. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," Damon said indignantly and at the same time Elena said, "Of course not." Granted she wasn't sure whether or not she'd been the vampire equivalent of groped, but she definitely wasn't going to tell that to Alaric.

Ric looked past them to the near mountain of blood bags discarded on the floor. "The spell worked?"

"Once again," Damon said dryly, "rhetorical or idiot. Take your pick."

"Unbelievable." Ric finally let the stake fall back to his side and shook his head. "That was _stupid_. _Both_ of you." He gave Damon a glare that promised they were going to have a serious talk later. "You could have killed her."

"I didn't," Damon replied, and Elena could hear what almost sounded like pride in his voice.

Ric let his breath out slowly and ran a hand through his hair. He looked exhausted and Elena remembered that he'd looked rough even before the wreck and getting tossed around by the witch.

"Why don't you go back to the house?" Elena suggested, taking pity on him. "Get some sleep. Wait… your car." She'd forgotten that his SUV was wrecked.

"I've got a rental," he said. "Come on. I'll take you home."

"Actually… You go ahead." Elena cast a glance in Damon's direction. For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to leave him just yet. "Don't worry. I'll be right behind you. I'm dying for a shower."

Alaric frowned in displeasure, shooting Damon another glare, but finally his exhaustion seemed to win out over his annoyance with their behavior. "Fine," he said in defeat. "I'm leaving." He slowly made his way toward the door, muttering the whole time and Elena definitely heard the words, "Idiot kids," somewhere in the middle.

"Aw." Damon smirked, looking very pleased. "I think Daddy's mad that we had a party while he was out of town."

"Do you enjoy rubbing everyone the wrong way?" Damon simply raised one eyebrow in answer and Elena rolled her eyes. "Of course you do."

"Well, _certain_ people," he sidled a little closer, "I enjoy rubbing the right way." He gave her a wicked grin. "Does that make you feel better?"

Elena backed up a step to keep a good distance between them. "Funnily enough, _no_."

Damon accepted the censure easily as he always did, but he gave her one last heated glance that sent a shock through her body before he turned away. "Fine," he sighed dramatically. "You should probably toddle off home anyway. I have no doubt Ric will be standing on the porch tapping his foot until you get there, just in case I had a sudden relapse and," he widened his eyes for effect, "_assaulted_ you."

Elena rolled her eyes, knowing full well that Damon was trying to make her uncomfortable. And maybe at another time it would have worked, but at the moment, she was grateful he was happy and healthy and able to make lewd comments. Her life wouldn't be the same if he weren't.

As had happened on a few occasions, she had a sudden desire to hug him and that, she decided, was definitely her cue to leave.

"Goodbye, Damon," she said and headed for the door. "I'm glad you're ok."

"Wait." Damon jogged after her. He stopped beside her just inside the front door. "Here." He held out a set of keys. "Take my car. Ric drove it back from the Grill when he wrecked his."

In all of the disasters, Elena had completely forgotten about something so mundane as where her car was. Either Ric or Caroline or someone had taken it home, or it was still parked outside the Grill.

"Won't you need it?" Elena asked.

"I'll come get it in the morning."

Damon held the keys in the palm of his hand. He took Elena's and transferred the keys as if they were shaking hands and Elena almost gasped at the contact. He kept their hands together longer than was necessary, finally placing his other hand over hers as well.

Damon waited for her eyes to meet his. "Thank you," he said solemnly, "for today."

"You're welcome." The phrase was just close enough to remind her of the last time they'd said those words and her eyes dropped of their own volition to his lips. Every warning bell she had went off in her head and she immediately stepped back, pulling the keys from his hands. Now that Damon was well, the boundaries, physical and otherwise, had to be _immediately_ reinstated.

Stefan, Elena mentally chided herself. She couldn't afford to be distracted like this. She couldn't. They had to find Stefan. They _would_ find him and they were going to drag him back and make this right. Things _were_ going to go back to normal.

Once again she had the traitorous thought that these things never seemed to work that way. Not in her life. But she liked to pretend. She _needed_ to believe it, because anything else was unacceptable.

But looking at Damon who was watching her so closely with his beautiful eyes that always saw far too much, eyes that drew her in and made her want to stay, all she could think was that maybe it wasn't so cut and dried anymore.

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><p><em>There you have it. Hope you enjoyed the story. Thanks for reading!<em>


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